No idea where this one came from; I blame an overload of administrivia, lack of caffeine, and global warming. They're not mine.

PLEEEEEASE Can I Keep Him?

Sam understood the power of the Pleading Puppy Dog Eyes only too well. He'd been deploying them in an offensive capacity since he was old enough to understand that they could be the deciding factor in convincing a store keeper that he was just an adorable, frightened little urchin who had accidentally broken a bottle of milk, and needed a hug (of course, while he was being soothed and reassured, Dean would be a couple of shelves away, shoving peanut butter and bread rolls down his jacket). So he recognized the tactic immediately.

However, even as he frowned at his brother, he had to admit himself impressed.

"Please," Dean begged uncharacteristically.

"No, Dean," Sam tried to sound firm and rational.

"Please?" Dean repeated. "Pleeeeeeease? I'll look after him."

"Dean, no," Sam said again, in exasperation, "It wouldn't work. It really, really wouldn't work."

"But, he was all alone, and so hungry," Dean complained, looking down to his arms where a big pair of eyes gazed back. "And he's so small…"

"He won't stay small for very long," snorted Sam. "You should have left him."

"How can you say that?" demanded Dean, stroking the head that butted against him for attention. "He was alone, and cold, and hungry – he'd have died!"

"It is the way of the natural world, Dean," Castiel explained in an unusually compassionate tone. "Young creatures are often lost, or abandoned, or orphaned. To humans, that seems sad, and unfair, and in a way, perhaps it is. But it is part of the natural order. If I have learned one thing, Dean, it is that interference with the natural order is an invitation to disaster."

"It doesn't have to be," Dean assured them, "Look, he's settling in already! He's got a good healthy appetite, I think he's putting on weight." Smiling, he picked up a hamburger from the table and offered it to his eager companion, who made a noise of eagerness and snapped up the treat. "Yow! Careful there, Fluffy, I need all those fingers…"

"Fluffy?" Sam couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. "You named that Fluffy?"

"He's cute!" Dean insisted. "He's cute, and he's happy, and he likes me too! He follows me around!"

"He has imprinted on you," Castiel told him, "As a neonate, he would have instinctively followed any animal larger than himself, thinking that it was his mother. Your insistence on feeding him has reinforced the bond. It is best that he be returned as soon as possible."

"But…" Dean watched the neonate in his arms – 'Fluffy' made the eager, pleading noise that he'd quickly learned would solicit more food, so Dean fed him another hamburger. "He's so little. He'll die, Cas."

"That is not inevitable," Castiel replied gently. "He is very young, but you have nurtured him through the first critical few days of his life. That is more than most in his situation would get. He will have strong instincts to find food, and avoid anything that might prey upon him. I should take him back to where he belongs."

"Cas is right, bro," Sam echoed the angel's words. "He needs to go back. He needs to go home. And he does NOT need to eat any more hamburgers."

"He likes hamburgers," Dean protested.

"Well, they don't like him," humphed Sam, "If the steaming heap he left on the bathroom floor was any indication."

Dean sighed. Fluffy, full of greasy cholesterol-packed goodness, yawned, sighed, and snuggled into his arms for a nap. "I guess you're right," he finally agreed, "But I'll miss him. He's really easy to love." Reluctantly, he handed over his sleeping bundle to Castiel. "Find him a safe place to finish his nap, Cas. Somewhere near water – he likes to have a drink when he wakes up after eating."

"I will find a safe, sheltered place, where he has the best chance to survive, and thrive," promised the angel. "It really is for the best, Dean."

"Yeah." Dean sighed, smiled sadly, and stroked the gently snoring little head. "So long, Fluffy. You would've made an awesome pet."

Holding the small creature close, Castiel took wing carefully.

"It's what's best, bro," Sam consoled Dean.

"I know," Dean surreptitiously wiped his eyes, "But… I just hope he'll be okay."

"He'll have an angel watching over him," Sam reminded him. "He'll have the best chance he could possibly have. Come on, we'd better get to Bobby's. If he doesn't see us with his own eyes soon, he'll start tearing reality apart."

They had already called Bobby and given him an explanation for their sudden apparent disappearance from the face of the Earth: a remnant of Zachariah's faction, acting on who knew what motivation – revenge, or the angelic equivalent of congenital stupidity – had decided to stop the Winchesters from meddling in worldly affairs by whisking them backwards in time. Quite a lot.

Fortunately for the Winchesters, Castiel was quickly able to figure out what happened, and fetch them back to their own era within a day. He was in such a rush to get them back to where they were supposed to be, though, that he didn't notice the extra passenger until they had returned…

Bobby was just relieved to have his boys back. He called them idjits on general principles, but when Sam told him about the little friend that Dean had been caring for over the previous few days, he was disbelieving. In fact, he wouldn't believe it until Sam took out his cell and displayed the photo of Fluffy in Dean's arms; they gazed adoringly at each other.

Bobby shook his head. "Only you, Dean," was all he could say, "Only you."

Later on that day, he had Sam download and print out that picture, because the small moments of real happiness that his boys found in the most unexpected places were precious to him.

And because only Dean Winchester would try to adopt an orphaned baby T. rex.